


The World is Yours

by imaginedestiel



Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: 1930s america, M/M, Mobster AU, Prostitution, some violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-01
Updated: 2017-05-18
Packaged: 2018-09-21 05:54:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9534659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imaginedestiel/pseuds/imaginedestiel
Summary: A response to the prompt, "I wish you would write a fic where Anakin is a broke prostitute and is somehow caught between gang war over control of drug sales across the region AND the crimelords happen to be Obi-Wan and his rival," OR,Anakin finds his luck changing when he meets his boss's rival and frenemy, Obi-Wan Kenobi.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> ♫ Call me irresponsible... ♫ because I started a new fic! I had a prompt, okay, I had to write it. I had to! This is inspired by 1930s-ish America, but there will probably be alien species and it won't be perfectly historically accurate. But who can get over the 30s slang? Okay, go read, comments are appreciated, thanks!

It was the fourth man who broke him.

Anakin lay on his threadbare cot, his body chilled by a shining layer of sweat. He was too weak to pull his blanket out from under the bed and cover himself. Not from lack of food, no—he ate a decent amount each day. It was the three men who'd come, one after another, to his room to make use of him.

With his wits and his pretty face, Anakin was usually able to convince them his mouth was more suitable than his ass for a fuck. It was his specialty. But these men wouldn't hear it. They wanted it hard and fast and Anakin would provide it because he had to. The young man had almost grown used to it—almost—but not in such close proximity. He hadn't had more than five minutes between each one. And then the door opened again.

Someone patted his cheek rapidly. "Hey, wake up," said the man. Anakin curled in on himself with a groan.

The stranger grabbed his arm and yanked him up, then held his chin in a harsh grip. "I didn't order no sleeping beauty!" he growled.

Anakin didn't know what to do. He couldn't take anymore. But he wasn't exactly in a position to fight. Maybe the older man would leave if he just pretended to sleep. His customer looked like he had a wife and five kids and blew all his money on beer. Smelled like it, too. Anakin closed his eyes and let his head hang back, his body limp in the man's arms.

He received a slap in the face in return. Anakin's eyes went wide as the man turned him over and pinned him down roughly. He muffled a cry with his pillow. Maybe his customer would be done after just a few minutes. A few minutes passed and the pain was only growing—Anakin's body shook with the over-stimulation.

"No more," he murmured.

"What'd you say?" the man spat.

"No more!" Anakin yelled. He whirled around and struck the man, using the momentary shock to scramble off the bed and run for the door. The customer followed, footsteps thudding across the old wood floors. Anakin threw open the door and raced down the hall to the stairs. Still the man followed.

"Get back here, you filthy whore!" he hollered.

Vos would save him, Anakin thought. He had to. He wouldn't want his products damaged—at least not irreparably. Anakin just hoped Vos was in today and he wasn't running towards an empty office. He looked over his shoulder as the obscenities grew in intensity. The man was almost on him. Anakin burst through Vos' office just as the man grabbed a fistful of his hair and socked him in the stomach. Anakin would have keeled over had the man released his hair, but he didn't, despite tearing out several of the strands. Vos was there behind his desk, and another man stood in front of him in a clean, white suit and a long gray trench coat. Anakin squeezed his eyes shut as his customer yanked on his hair so he'd stand up straight. There was a loud series of sounds like  _pop pop pop_  and Anakin froze. His customer dropped dead beside him. Anakin took a sharp breath and looked down at his naked body. He was unharmed.

"Kenobi!" Vos griped, standing up and planting his hands on his desk, "Why the hell did you do that?"

The man in the white suit,  _Kenobi_ , rested his submachine gun in the crook of one arm and walked towards Anakin. He didn't bother responding to Vos. Anakin shuffled backwards as Kenobi approached him, eyeing the gun in his hand. Kenobi stopped where he stood and put the gun down with a clank, straightening out slowly before pulling his coat off his shoulders.

"Don't," Anakin said, "I— I— I— I can't take anymore today—please—"

Kenobi took a step closer, his lips pursed as he said, "Shh... I'm not going to hurt you. Here." He pulled the trench coat around Anakin's shoulders and Anakin slipped his arms into it, fingers and knees shaking as he did the buttons up. He glanced at Vos nervously, who'd sat back down in his chair, arms and legs crossed, his feet propped up on the desk. Kenobi placed a gentle hand on his cheek and Anakin met his eyes.

"Don't worry about him," Kenobi said softly, "You're not in trouble."

Anakin took a shallow breath and nodded. Kenobi procured a handkerchief and brought it to Anakin's face. He dabbed at Anakin's split bottom lip, then wiped at the white streaks on his face, and the one in his hair. "You poor thing," Kenobi breathed.

"Really, Kenobi," Vos called from across the room, "You lost me a sale. Many sales, actually. You plan on paying for the whore's mistake?"

Anakin looked down in shame. Kenobi's brows bent in barely contained rage and he knelt by the dead man. Blood was seeping out onto the carpet. He took the man's wristwatch, wedding ring, and wallet and tossed them at Vos once he'd crossed the room again. "That enough to fill your pockets?"

Vos thumbed through the wallet and held the ring up to the light, then weighed the watch by lifting it up and down a few times in his palm. He tossed the stuff back on the desk. "It'll do," Vos determined.

"Good," said Kenobi, "You know I wouldn't hesitate to pump you full of lead, too."

Vos' bodyguards stiffened, guns trained on Kenobi.

"Think about my offer," Kenobi said, raising his hand in a relaxed gesture, "I'm taking a tour of your place. Watch my gun for me, will you?" He turned his back to the crime lord and strode calmly back to Anakin. "Will you show me around, dollface?" he asked.

Anakin could hardly register that the man before him had just killed someone for him, without question, without even batting an eye. And now he was taking him away from any punishment he might receive for making a scene. The man had to be a saint.

Anakin nodded slightly and stepped through the office doorway again. Kenobi followed and shut the door behind him. "This is the parlor," Anakin said, gesturing to his left and the room full of ladies, half-dressed and smoking or drinking. Some did both, and they made it look like it was the only way to properly relax. There were only a few other working men, most older, one younger, and they lounged around, seemingly without care. All but the youngest had body types that could easily overpower the average customer. Anakin was on the leaner side, despite having the advantage of his height. Kenobi was a few inches shorter than him. He turned to the man to see his reaction.

Kenobi surveyed them with a sharp look. None had visible injuries like Anakin. He met Anakin's gaze.

Anakin turned and led him to the front of the building, stepping carefully in his bare feet to avoid any broken bottles. "This is where the guests check in and choose someone," Anakin said.

Kenobi looked around at the plush chairs and sofa where the customers would wait. He stood behind a podium and turned the guestbook around. It had pictures, names, and attributes of all the workers. There was a separate black bound book for tracking money and guest names, although the vast majority of them were fake. Kenobi found Anakin's page.

"Don't—don't read that," Anakin pleaded weakly.

Kenobi glanced at him and closed the book. "I'm not judging you," he told him.

Anakin read sympathy in his eyes. But he'd seen sympathy a thousand times and only Vos had offered help.

"Will you show me your room?" Kenobi asked.

Anakin wrinkled his nose, suspicious.

"I just want to see it," Kenobi explained, "I promise not to touch you."

Anakin gnawed at the inside of his cheek and decided to trust him. He owed him a lot after all—probably his life. A small part of him nagged at him, saying his life was his life _only,_ but Anakin knew that was no longer true.

Kenobi followed him up the rickety stairs, down the hallway, and into the last room on the right. He nearly clamped his hand over his nose at the smell, but he resisted. Anakin stood off to the side, eyes glued to his toes. Kenobi took a few cautious steps around the room. It was pretty sparse. Anakin had one window, a cot, a lamp and a nightstand, and a few hangers dangling from nails in the walls for his clothing. Of which there wasn’t much, a few cotton shirts, pants worn thin. If he owned anything of the nicer variety, it was tucked away in the nightstand. Anakin looked at the state of his life and burst into tears.

Kenobi spun on his heels and went to him, deciding to close the door for privacy. Anakin rubbed at his face desperately, but he couldn’t stop it. He wasn’t supposed to cry. It put off the customers. Kenobi took his hands gently and Anakin tried to avoid his gaze, vision blurred by his tears.

“Poor little bunny,” Kenobi said, “How badly did he hurt you? Should we go to the hospital?”

Anakin shook his head vehemently. He couldn’t pay for that. Who would take care of him anyway? No one wanted to touch a dirty whore.

“Come here,” Kenobi told him, tugging at his wrists slightly, “It’s alright. Lean on me.”

Anakin hugged him with all his strength, which seemed to bubble out into the air and force Kenobi to support his body. Anakin cried until he couldn’t anymore, and Kenobi seemed to be okay with that. He wiped his tears when Anakin was finally able to raise his head off his shoulder.

“What’s your name?” Kenobi asked.

“Anakin,” he replied, sniffling. “Anakin Skywalker.”

Kenobi smiled a little. “I’m Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan Kenobi. I have an offer for you.”

“What?” Anakin asked. A pit formed in his stomach.

“Why don’t you come live with me? This is no way to treat a person,” he said, swinging his arm out at the room. “I have money.” He chuckled. “A _lot_ of money. I don’t need you to work for me like you do Vos.”

Anakin wasn’t comprehending his words. His lips parted.

“Take your time,” said Obi-Wan Kenobi, “Sit down if you must. I have a few more questions for you, anyway.”

Anakin sat on the edge of the bed and pulled his blanket around him. Obi-Wan sat by him, but not too closely. “What do you want to know?” Anakin asked.

“Do you get enough to eat?”

“Yes,” Anakin replied.

“Does everyone else?”

“I think so.”

“Do the others have homes somewhere?”

“Most.”

“Do you?”

“Not anymore,” Anakin said.

“Do you sleep here at night?” Obi-Wan asked.

“I do,” Anakin answered.

“Under what conditions?”

“Padmé locks my door. She says it’s safer.”

“Who’s Padmé?” Obi-Wan asked.

Anakin replied, “She works the front desk. She also asks Vos for things when we need them.” Anakin balled his hands up in his blanket. “People say half the customers come because they want her. She doesn’t do what we do, though.”

“I see,” Obi-Wan said, raising a hand to stroke his beard, “And how often do you bathe?”

“Every day if I can.”

“And do you have hot water?”

“Well, it starts out hot, but after everyone’s used the tub…”

Obi-Wan stifled a gasp. “How uncivilized. Vos doesn’t know how to run a business.”

Anakin wondered if somehow he was _just business_ to this man.

“How often do you leave the building, Anakin? For food or fresh air? To see your friends?” Obi-Wan asked.

Anakin almost cried again. “Never,” he said, “Not anymore. I don’t have friends. I can’t pay for food.”

Obi-Wan wore a hard look, his suspicions confirmed. “Tell me if this is right, okay? Vos took you in and said you’d get room and board if you worked for him?”

Anakin nodded.

“And you never see any of the money you’d be making?”

Anakin nodded slowly.

Obi-Wan took a breath. “He’s done this before, the slimy greaseball. Anakin, what he’s done to you isn’t fair. You’re making more money than it costs to pay for a room and food. You’re his slave, essentially, and he’s getting all the profits.”

Anakin resisted against the idea that all his nights there were fruitless. He wiped his eye. “Why would you take me in? What use am I to you?” he demanded.

“Sweetheart, I don’t want to use you,” Obi-Wan said, “You remind me of me not too many years ago. You just need someone a little older and a little wiser to show you the way.”

Anakin searched the man’s steely eyes. “Okay,” he said.

Obi-Wan smiled with white, pearly teeth and Anakin felt jealous. “Get dressed then, dollface. I’ll get you out of here right now.”

Then Anakin felt the urge to smile. He hadn’t felt it in ages. He stood up and went to the side of the room, unbuttoning Obi-Wan’s trench coat as he did so. He draped it over a small wooden chair and pulled a shirt off its hanger, then over his head. He thought he felt Obi-Wan’s eyes on him, but maybe he was just used to the feeling. He tugged on some pants and shoes, then grabbed the borrowed trench coat as he turned around again, offering it to Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan stood and took the coat, then wrapped it around Anakin’s shoulders once more. “Keep it,” he said, “You’re going to need it.”

Anakin ran his hands over the fabric, overwhelmingly grateful, and it was just a coat. Obi-Wan patted his back and they made their way downstairs again, and down the hallway to the office. “Wait right here, okay?” Obi-Wan said, with one hand on the doorknob. Anakin stood to the side.

Obi-Wan went in, got a resounding no for his offer, and replied with some grand words of his own before picking up his gun and walking out the door. Anakin followed behind him for the few steps it took to get to the parlor.

Obi-Wan cleared his throat. “Padmé, and anyone else who wants to leave can come with me, no strings attached. Come now, and don’t hesitate. There’s a car waiting.”

They chatted among themselves in a low hum, punctuated by a few high laughs. “No strings, huh?” challenged a woman in a red bra and matching robe, “You’re stupid if you think there aren’t strings, Padmé, especially for a girl like you.”

Padmé rose to her feet and went to Anakin, all the room’s sneering stares on her. She reached for his hands, noting the split in his lip. “Ani, what’s this about? Are you leaving us?”

Anakin gave her hands a firm squeeze. “I’m taking a chance at something better,” he decided, “and you can come with me. Please don’t stay here.”

She glanced at Obi-Wan and looked him up and down. “You do know who he is, don’t you?”

“Obi-Wan Kenobi,” Anakin whispered, “Right?”

Padmé bit her lip. “Yes, Ani, Obi-Wan Kenobi the _crime lord_. He’s just like Vos.”

“Sorry to disagree with you, kitten, but I’m not a thing like Quinlan Vos,” Obi-Wan said, “Not in the slightest.”

“Sorry if I don’t believe that,” Padmé replied. She turned back to Anakin and whispered, “What happened to you? Are you hurt? I saw that man chasing you.”

“I’m okay,” Anakin said, “I’m just quitting the job. Are you?”

“You’ll have food, clothes, and warm baths every day with me,” Obi-Wan said.

“And the same job?” Padmé asked, “Or are you going to give me the same whores-make-more-money speech that Vos gives?”

Obi-Wan smirked. “I’m going to give you something much more valuable. The tools you need to survive in the world. You’ll work for me in any way you deem fit.”

Padmé crossed her arms and hummed. “You trust him, Ani?” she asked.

Anakin leaned by her ear and said, “He killed my bad customer.”

Padmé’s lips parted briefly, and then she nodded. She stuck out her hand. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”

Obi-Wan shook her hand and asked the room, “Anyone else?”

“Traitor!” they called, “Don’t you know what happens to rats?!”

Obi-Wan tipped his hat to them and waved for Anakin and Padmé to follow him. They left the dim building and squinted at the sunshine. A brilliant white limousine awaited them. Anakin felt his heart jump.

“Don’t you two worry one bit,” Obi-Wan told them as they got in the car, “You’re going to like your new life.” He shut the door for them and got in the passenger seat, then put his hand in the air and made a funny circular motion with his index finger.

The driver pulled away from the curb and onto the street, followed by three other shiny cars loaded with gunmen and bodyguards. Anakin gulped. Padmé grabbed his hand and the cars sped into the distance.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anakin gets a grand tour of Obi-Wan's mansion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, FYI, the context of "Daddy" in this chapter is like "Sugar Daddy" of the 20s/30s. Those of you who read my other work know full well the other contexts so there's some clarification, lol. Honestly, "Sugar Daddy" is not that much better, but this is fanfic, after all. I appreciate every comment and kudos! Thanks for reading!

Riding in a speeding car was a new experience for Anakin. His mother taught him to be a careful driver, since they couldn't afford a ticket. Obviously, Obi-Wan didn't share the same concern.

The wind whirled in and out of the open vehicle, tossing Anakin's hair to and fro and causing Padmé to shout, "Slow down!"

Obi-Wan turned back to them with a mad grin, his hat clamped in one hand so it wouldn't blow away. He yapped something at the driver and they continued on at the same velocity, only screeching to a halt when the limousine pulled up to a mansion so tall Anakin had to crane his neck to see it fully.

"Careful with the brakes, there, Magnus," Obi-Wan said, and jumped over the side door, feet landing on even, white pebbles.

"Sorry, sir," the driver replied.

Obi-Wan waved it off and opened the car door for Anakin and Padmé before helping them out.

"Wow," Padmé muttered, staring at the gold embellished doorway, brown eyes soon moving over the rows and rows of pretty windows, and those were just the ones facing south. Anakin felt similarly speechless.

Obi-Wan held his arms out to each side, walking backwards as he spoke. "Welcome to Whip-poor-will’s Keep!”

It was safe to say Anakin and Padmé felt out of place.

Obi-Wan smiled with those perfect teeth and ushered them in. "Come on! You're going to love it here..." The guards by the front door stepped out of the way and allowed Obi-Wan to unlock the door. He threw it open and made another grand gesture as his guests stepped onto the marble flooring.

Anakin's jaw dropped. There was a great, curving staircase in front of him and a crystal chandelier above him. There were rooms off to either side, the purpose of each Anakin wasn't sure—a living room? A tea room? He'd never had one of those. Everything was lit by the sun or by sparkling fixtures, and the decor had green tints that went well with the flowers and plants stationed here and there.

"Anakin? Did you hear me?" Obi-Wan asked.

Anakin blinked and met his eyes.

"I asked if you'd like a tour," he explained, smiling kindly.

Anakin smiled back, just a twitch of his lips. "Yeah, I would."

Padmé tried not to laugh. She knew a little about his background—he'd confessed it the very first night in The Hideaway. As amazing as this was for her, it was twice as good for Anakin.

They followed Obi-Wan into the kitchen, which was painted a calming yellow and smelled suspiciously like something delicious was cooking. The chef said hello to them and Anakin could no longer keep his mouth closed. Obi-Wan leaned against the granite island. He said, "You're welcome to the fridge and the pantry at any time. You may also ask Anita here to make you something, as long as she's not on break. Any questions?"

"Yes," Padmé said, moving behind the counter, "How does this work?"

"The coffeemaker?" Obi-Wan went to her side and pulled a mug down from the cupboard. "Press this button here to start heating the water—" He pressed it. "The machine will do the work for you. Once it stops brewing, you can pour yourself a cup."

Brown liquid filled the glass pitcher. Obi-Wan pointed out a ceramic container for sugar by the side of the machine, and told them the milk was in the fridge, of course. The coffee maker beeped and Padmé filled her mug, taking a sip after adding a little of each.

"Good?" Obi-Wan asked.

"Delicious," she said, "Thank you."

"Anakin, would you like some?"

Anakin nodded, eyes still entranced by the miracle machine. Obi-Wan poured him some, fixed it with an extra helping of sugar, and handed it to Anakin.

Anakin took a cautious sip. The others looked at him like he was trying it for the first time, which wasn't true. But he'd never had an automatic machine make it for him.

"It's good," he said, "Thanks."

Obi-Wan chuckled softly. "Good. Let me show you the rest of the house."

Anakin set down his coffee mug, afraid he was going to spill it on something. Padmé finished hers off and put the mug next to Anakin's. Obi-Wan led them into the common area, which had a fireplace and plush places to sit, a wide decorative rug spanning the wooden floors, a radio and a tall record player.

"I like to dance in here sometimes," Obi-Wan mused, "You can roll up the rug or leave it there for a soft landing."

Anakin laughed, then covered his mouth.

Obi-Wan said, "It's okay, Anakin. Laugh whenever you want. Just don't make jokes about me, okay? It takes the men off their guard."

Anakin nodded and smiled at Padmé. She asked, "What should we address you as?"

Obi-Wan tinkered with a ceramic cat sitting on the mantelpiece. "Oh, whatever you like. Obi-Wan, Mister Kenobi, Ben, Daddy... But I won't be asking for anything in return for my gifts, you hear? That's not how this works. I only ask for your loyalty and common respect."

Anakin was relieved. Considering they were both plucked from a whorehouse, he wasn't all that sure sex was off the table till now.

"What's your favorite kind of music?" Padmé asked next.

“I like the new kind of jazz," he answered.

"Oh, you must like swing dancing, then,” she deduced.

He smiled and gave a nod.

“Do you mind if we use your record player?" Padmé asked sweetly.

"Not at all," Obi-Wan replied, "Just make sure the records get put back in their sleeves, and don't drop them. They'll shatter. Shall I show you the second floor?"

They agreed and the three of them took the stairs, Obi-Wan then Anakin then Padmé, till they reached the upper floor where the bedrooms were. It seemed like the doors branching off of the wide hallway would never end.

"You two may choose between any of these four rooms," Obi-Wan said, touching each closed door as he walked past, "The others have guests currently or belong to my friends who like to drop in from time to time. For perspective, my room is here—" He turned down the hallway and walked five steps before placing his fingertips on the door of his bedroom. "If you need me, just knock." Obi-Wan ushered them farther down that hallway and stopped at the last door on the left. "One of my only rules is that you do not enter this room. It's my office, and it requires privacy. It will be locked. Understand?"

They both murmured a yes, feeling slightly uneasy.

Obi-Wan smiled and moved back down the hallway. "These are bathrooms, fully furnished with showers, bathtubs, toilets, sinks..." He opened the door to one and Anakin and Padmé stepped into the vast expanse of tile, marble, and mirrors.

"You may use anything at any time, just have patience for anyone who beats you to it. There are two bathrooms downstairs if you just need to go. Oh! Come here." Obi-Wan curled a finger towards himself as he went to the bathroom's window and pulled up the blinds. "From here you can see the pool. It’s free for your use, and I'll have bathing suits ready for you soon. Questions?"

Anakin stared at the deep blue pool and the fields of green surrounding it. He must have died and gone to heaven.

Obi-Wan led them back to the four rooms they could choose from. "All of these have locks if you so choose to use them, however, my guests know not to go barging in on anyone." They went inside one. It was bigger than the bathroom. The bed itself was larger than any Anakin had seen...

"If you have a preference for pillow types, just let Ashla know. Closet, desk, hamper," Obi-Wan said, pointing. "If there's something you'd like for your comfort or recreation, the same goes."

Anakin and Padmé observed each room. Anakin chose the one with model airplanes on the desk. Padmé picked the room across from his. It had a satin comforter smoother than the skin of her fingers. They met again in the hallway.

"Lunch will be served soon," Obi-Wan informed them. "In the meantime, you can rest or keep me company downstairs." He turned to Anakin. "I think you might like a bath, huh?"

Anakin nodded solemnly. Padmé offered him a smile and a brush of her hand before Obi-Wan led him back to the bathroom. Obi-Wan knelt by the clawfoot tub and plugged the stopper inside it. Anakin shifted from foot to foot. This was all so new. Anakin watched as Obi-Wan poured oils and salts into the tub. The room filled with pleasant scents and Anakin began to relax.

When the tub was full, Obi-Wan adjusted his suit jacket and went to Anakin's side. "Take your time now, sweetheart. Sponges and razors are under the sink, as well as shampoo and conditioner. Would you like me to wash your clothes?" he asked.

Anakin looked down at his worn out undershirt and trousers. They were probably worthless in Obi-Wan's eyes, and dirty to boot. But he'd sold everything else.

Anakin ran his teeth over his bottom lip, breaking the skin again, except he didn't really notice. He slipped out of Obi-Wan’s trench coat, then his cotton shirt. He folded them before setting the clothes on the counter, then did the same with his pants and his shoes. How many times was he going to be naked in front of this man? Obi-Wan kept his eyes on Anakin's expression, so it wasn't like he was ogling him, but at the same time Anakin couldn't meet his eyes without that pang in his heart of  _You know what's about to happen_.

Anakin handed the neat little stack to Obi-Wan, who spotted something purple and out of place on his shoulder. It was pretty apparent from the shape of it what it was. The teeth marks were visible as he stood a little closer to him. "Anakin," he started, sounding sad.

Anakin caught his gaze and reached back to cover it. That one had hurt. He didn't mind little nips here and there, but this was something else.

"Just wait one second," Obi-Wan said, setting Anakin's clothes down before opening up the medicine cabinet. He pulled out a solution and cotton pads and hesitated before turning back to Anakin. "Do you want me to clean it? It looks like it's hard to reach," Obi-Wan said.

He could clean it himself. But there were some scratches on his back that Obi-Wan surely saw earlier. He turned and braced himself against the counter.

Obi-Wan made swift work of cleaning his injuries. Anakin felt a steady stream of breath against his skin, not overwhelming or warm, but still there. "You're all set," Obi-Wan announced.

"Thank you," Anakin murmured. He kept his head down. Just like that Obi-Wan was gone, and Anakin was left to his bath. He took what he needed from the cupboards, avoided his image in the mirror, and went to the tub, its murky water greeting him. He put his hand in the water. Hot, but not too hot. He eased one foot into the tub, then the other, and slowly sank down to his neck. He shimmied to let his head rest against the rim of the tub and sighed, the breath coming out of him for what seemed like an eternity. He soaked in the water long enough for his muscles to relax, bubbles fizzing around him. He closed his eyes.

There was a knock on the door. "Ani?" Padmé called.

"What?" Anakin called back, voice a little rough.

"You've been in there for almost forty minutes. Just wanted to make sure you were okay."

"Huh?" Anakin muttered. He sat forward and rubbed his eyes. He must've fallen asleep. "I'm fine," he replied, "Be out in a minute."

"Your clothes are by the door, okay?"

"Okay!"

Anakin listened to her subtle footsteps move down the hallway before scrubbing himself down as fast as he could. He slapped some shampoo into his hair and rubbed it in. Even his scalp was sore, though his body didn't feel so achy now. He took a gulp of air before ducking under the water and rinsing out his hair. He surfaced again with a splash and cursed at the mess, then stepped out onto a bathmat and toweled off. His skin felt so soft. He spared a glance for himself in the mirror. He looked a little healthier, too—a little more color in his cheeks.

Anakin dried his hair wildly and used the towel to mop up the floor, then all but shoved the bath supplies back into the cupboard. He opened and closed a few drawers before locating a comb and running it through his hair. Now he wouldn't look so bedraggled. With a towel around his waist, he opened the bathroom door and picked up his clothes. Obi-Wan must've had one of those automatic clothes driers, too. The only additions to the stack were socks and a pair of briefs with the tag still on them. Fancy. Anakin dressed in them and smiled at it all. He could still smell wafts of lavender now and then.

He flicked off the bathroom light and padded downstairs, the sound of trumpets and drums meeting his ears. With a few more steps he heard Padmé laughing, and others clapping.

Anakin entered the common area and saw Obi-Wan dancing with a young Togruta woman, swinging her from side to side like she didn't weigh a feather. The music flew by at an insatiable pace, and the dance partners kept up, jumping, spinning, whirling. The track ended and a few girls in the crowd asked to be next. The boys whistled and clapped and the two of them bowed before Obi-Wan slipped out and made his way over to Anakin. He wiped his brow with a fresh handkerchief and asked, "How'd you like your bath?"

Anakin tried to will away his blush. He didn't fall asleep. He absolutely did not fall asleep. "I fell asleep," Anakin said.

Obi-Wan laughed. "That's alright. Don't let us bother you if you want to rest. Oh, and we ate already, but there's still some beef stew on the stove for you."

Anakin's mouth watered. That was one of his favorite dishes. It was simple, easy to make with beef scraps and cheap potatoes. It was always better with carrots.

Obi-Wan smiled warmly and waved Anakin over. He slipped behind the kitchen counter and pulled down a bowl from the cupboards. “Do you want biscuits?” Obi-Wan asked.

Anakin’s eyes had grown to the size of marbles. How could everything be so perfect? “Yes, please,” he replied.

Obi-Wan served him his food and sat by him at the counter’s bar stools. The party continued in the other room.

“Do they all live here?” Anakin asked, reaching for a napkin.

“Goodness, no,” Obi-Wan responded. “Ashla does, and Elan used to. But the others are a bit too rowdy for my tastes. It doesn’t hurt to celebrate every once in a while, though.”

Anakin tried not to slurp his soup. It tasted delicious and it was warm in his throat. “Is Ashla the one you were dancing with?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“You like her?”

“Oh, yes. She’s got a mouth on her, that one.”

Anakin nodded as he chewed a piece of beef.

“She’s far too young to be living on her own, I think. So she keeps the house in order and I pay her for it,” Obi-Wan continued. He sipped his water and dabbed his brow again.

“And Elan? Which one is Elan?”

Obi-Wan held two fingers behind his head like antennae. Anakin smiled.

“What did you do for him?” he asked.

“He was in jail for theft,” Obi-Wan said, “at age eighteen. Too young to throw his life away.”

“So you bailed him out?”

Obi-Wan hummed a yes.

“What does he do now?”

“Why don’t you ask him yourself?” Obi-Wan suggested, noting that Anakin had finished off his stew. “Get to know everybody.”

Anakin hesitated.

“I could introduce you,” Obi-Wan offered. Anakin worried his lip again. “Or not,” Obi-Wan said softly, “Whatever you like.”

“Thank you,” Anakin said earnestly, “You’ve been so kind. But do you really want me around your friends?”

Obi-Wan gawked at him for a moment, then stood and guided Anakin off the stool and into the other room. “Yes, I want you around my friends,” he said on the way, “There are others like you. It’s okay.”

Anakin flushed as Obi-Wan’s guests turned to look at him. Obi-Wan gestured for them to turn the music down, and they did. “Everyone,” he announced, “This is my friend Anakin. He’s new here, so show him your best hospitality. Alright, get back to the party, everyone.”

The music increased in volume again and most of the eyes on Anakin found other things to focus on. Anakin turned to Obi-Wan, warm to his ears.

“What are they celebrating?” he asked.

“You,” Obi-Wan said, smirking.

“What?”

“You and Padmé. The fact that I stole you from Vos. No doubt I’ll be hearing from him in a moment—”

A man in a black suit brought Obi-Wan a telephone and tapped him on the shoulder.

“Speak of the devil,” Obi-Wan said. He turned back to Anakin and said, “I’ll just be a moment. Go talk to people.” And he disappeared into the other room.

Anakin looked around with a frown and spotted Padmé on a sofa, glass of champagne in her hand and a few curious people talking to her. Anakin rubbed his arm.

“Hey,” came a girl’s voice.

Anakin turned and redirected his gaze to meet Ashla’s. “Hello,” he said. She did look quite young up close.

“I’m Ah—Ashla,” she said, as if correcting herself, “What brings you here?”

Anakin ran his fingers through his damp hair. “Obi-Wan sort of… rescued me.”

“Oh, that’s swell! He rescued me too!”

Anakin liked her smile. She had big blue eyes, a sky blue dress, and darker blue stripes on her headtails.

“Are you going to stick around for a while?” Ashla asked.

Anakin smiled. “I think so.”

The seconds of socializing grew into minutes which morphed into an hour, and Anakin enjoyed himself thoroughly. No one seemed to recognize him or make a big deal out of his vague answers to their questions. He even talked to the Balosar named Elan.

“Wow, you’re a peach!” Elan said upon seeing him.

Anakin wondered how he could possibly be a peach with wet hair, a beat-up lip, and three days’ worth of scruff on his jaw. “Thanks,” he replied.

“Did the boss assign you something yet?” Elan asked, with a voice like a smoker.

“No,” Anakin said, “But I was wondering what you did.”

“Me? Well, I sell these beauties.” He took a pack of cigarettes out of his coat. “Among other things.”

Anakin couldn’t say he was all that surprised. “Do you like it?”

“Like it? Oh, yeah. I’m the best there is. I could teach you, if you like.”

Anakin asked, “Is it dangerous?”

“Only if a bull catches you,” Elan answered. “But Papa’s bailed me out before.”

“Papa?”

“The boss. Here he comes.”

Obi-Wan sat down next to Anakin and drank half his glass of sparkling wine before speaking. “That took longer than expected,” he admitted.

“Vos again?” Elan asked.

Obi-Wan rubbed his forehead and nodded.

“I hope I’m not causing you trouble,” Anakin told him.

Obi-Wan waved his hand. “No, sweetheart. Vos wants compensation for you and I told him he doesn’t deserve it. So now he wants blood.”

“ _Blood?”_ Anakin questioned. What had he gotten into?

“Empty threats,” Elan said.

“Usually,” Obi-Wan countered. “But it’s time for a little quiet now. Tell everyone I want them gone in ten minutes, okay?”

“You got it,” Elan said, and went to round everybody up.

Anakin felt a twist in his stomach. “Do you kill a lot of people?” he asked.

Obi-Wan glanced at him before setting his glass down. He met him with a serious expression. “Only when I have to.”

“What about your own people?” Anakin asked, eyes full of fear, “When they betray you?”

“It’s rare,” Obi-Wan said simply.

“I think I drank too much,” Anakin spilled, and rushed off to the bathroom. Obi-Wan followed him. Anakin braced himself over the toilet.

Obi-Wan shut the door behind him and knelt by Anakin, despite his protests. He gathered Anakin’s hair in one hand and waited till Anakin was done, then handed him a towel.

Anakin wiped his mouth, still dizzy with fear. He flushed the toilet and continued to sit on the tiled floor.

“I wouldn’t kill you, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said, smoothing his hair back into place, “You wouldn’t give me a reason to. Poor bunny…”

Anakin tried to deny that the fingers in his hair felt nice. “I’m more worried about Vos,” he confessed.

“I’m not going to kill him, either,” Obi-Wan said, “Probably.”

“No, I mean—”

“Ohh, I see. You think you’re a traitor? I took you, honey. In his eyes, I’m a kidnapper. You’re safe here. No one’s going to harm you, or ask you for things you don’t want to give.”

Anakin tried to breathe easy. He wanted to believe it.

Someone knocked on the door. “Obi-Wan, Mister Fett wants to talk to you.”

Obi-Wan sighed. “You can go up to bed if you want. I might be a while.”

Anakin nodded and mustered a smile. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he said, and turned to leave the bathroom. He closed the door right behind him so no one would see Anakin.

A few seconds passed and Anakin gathered himself off the floor. He’d only had a little to drink, after all. Through the door, Anakin could hear, “For the last time, Mister Fett, you’re not getting a raise!”

Anakin smiled, ever so slightly.

* * *

Night came. Anakin settled in his new bed, a _real_ bed, and he knew he’d be secure in it. Not that he cared, so much, because the luxury of the thing outweighed anything that could possibly be thrown his way. Or so he thought.

Anakin had said goodnight to Padmé and made one more stop in the bathroom to wash his face and brush his teeth. Despite his earlier upset, Anakin felt everything was right when he slipped under the covers of his bed. The pillow was fluffy and soft beneath his head. He turned off the lamp and quickly fell asleep.

Something woke him hours later. He’d been dreaming about being back at home with his mother, and then something pulled him out of it. Not something as easily describable as a sound, or a pain in his body. Something _different._

Anakin sat up, looked around, and froze. In the corner of the room stood a tall black figure. It was darker than the rest of his night-shaded surroundings and Anakin’s thoughts turned to the worst. Here was someone who had recognized him and was determined to get their way. Anakin’s fingers curled into fists at the thought of his clean body getting torn apart again. But the figure hadn’t moved, even as Anakin stared and stared in its direction. Anakin tensed further. Something wasn’t right. Suddenly the figure darted off to the side and Anakin couldn’t see it any longer.

The covers flew as Anakin jumped out of bed and ran for the door. He threw it open and nearly crashed into Padmé’s bedroom, but stopped himself. Padmé was nearly a foot shorter than him and surely couldn’t fight off a man taller than even Anakin. He rushed down the hall to Obi-Wan’s room and gave three loud raps on the door.

He almost regretted it as he listened to the silence beyond the door. What if it was just a dream? A nightmare fueled by the day he had? Then he heard footsteps approaching the door and Obi-Wan appeared with tousled hair and sleepy eyes. He tied his silky, golden robe around his waist and asked, “What do you need, Anakin?”

 _“There’s a man in my room!”_ Anakin said, all his worry flooding back. How could it have been a dream when he’d jumped out of bed so fast?

“What?” Obi-Wan blurted, his features twisting soon after. He started down the hallway. “Under no circumstances is that allowed… Someone in your room without your permission…” Anakin followed him back into his room as Obi-Wan switched on the lights.

There was no one there. Not even a trace.

“What did he look like?” Obi-Wan asked. He moved around the room to investigate.

Anakin rubbed his hands together. “It was dark—he just looked dark.”

“Where was he?” Obi-Wan asked next.

“There,” Anakin said, pointing. Obi-Wan stood in the same spot. “That’s where he was.”

Obi-Wan took a step towards Anakin. “And did he say anything to you?”

“No,” Anakin replied, eyes searching for a way the man could have made his escape. There didn’t seem to be any besides the door Anakin went through and the window, which didn’t lead to any balcony.

Obi-Wan gave the room one more examination before crossing his arms casually. “Your visitor seems to have left,” he said.

“You believe me?” Anakin asked, voice betraying his doubt.

Obi-Wan smiled. “Of course. Would you feel safer if I posted a guard outside your room?”

Anakin held out his hand and waved it, saying, “You don’t have to do that for me.”

Obi-Wan raised one hand to rub his beard. “Would you be more comfortable sharing a room with Padmé?”

“What? Oh no, we’re not—We’re not together.”

“Okay, no need to worry. What if… I slept by the door? Would that help?”

Anakin didn’t know what to say. “I couldn’t let you—I’m alright, really—”

“You look scared half to death,” Obi-Wan countered, “and I’ve slept on the floor many times before.”

They held each other’s gaze for a moment.

“Alright,” Anakin agreed quietly, “Alright. Thank you.”

Obi-Wan gave his arm a pat in passing. “I’ll just be a moment. Get back in bed.” He said the last part with an authoritative edge.

Anakin did. The sheets still retained his warmth. Obi-Wan returned with a bundle of blankets that he fixed in front of the doorway. Anakin watched him, feeling a little warmer inside. Obi-Wan positioned his pillow and then reached over for the lights.

“Okay?” he whispered.

Anakin nodded.

Out went the lights. Anakin watched Obi-Wan’s silhouette lie down in his makeshift bed.

“Goodnight, Anakin,” he heard from below. Anakin closed his eyes.

“Goodnight, Obi-Wan.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "How to Be a Sugar Daddy" by Obi-Wan Kenobi.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cannot believe how long it's been since I posted Chapter 2! It feels like just yesterday! Thanks everyone who encouraged me to write more despite fights with both time and motivation. There will be more chapters and more story to enjoy after this one!

There was a soft knock on Anakin’s bedroom door. Obi-Wan stirred in his cocoon of blankets.

“Ani, are you sleeping?” Padmé called.

Obi-Wan smiled at the sweet voice. He pushed off the blankets wrapped tight around him and straightened his robe before opening the door. “Good morning, Padmé,” he said.

She was surprised to see him. “Good morning…”

“I slept on the floor,” Obi-Wan told her, and gestured to Anakin. “He was a bit shaken.”

Padmé softened as she looked over Anakin, still sleeping and curled up like a cat. “Thank you, Obi-Wan,” she whispered. “Should we wake him?”

Obi-Wan glanced at the clock and tensed. “The tailor will be here any moment,” he realized aloud, and knelt by Anakin. He placed a hand on his shoulder and gave it a light squeeze. “Anakin, wake up.”

Anakin blinked as Padmé asked, “Tailor?”

Obi-Wan smiled at Anakin’s sleepy face and replied, “Yes, we’ve got a big day ahead of us! New wardrobes for both of you! Wake up, Ani.”

Anakin’s cheeks turned pink at the nickname and he threw the blankets off as Padmé and Obi-Wan left his room to get ready. He brushed his teeth and his hair next to Padmé in the bathroom, the sun shining through the window and making every golden surface sparkle. Anakin shaved and watched Padmé do her makeup in a cushioned vanity chair. She put on light purple eyeshadow, then mascara, a touch of blush and red lipstick, her thin brows making her look like a movie star. “Come here, Anakin,” she called.

Anakin rinsed off and patted his face dry with a towel, then went to her. Padmé dabbed at his chin and underneath his bottom lip with a bit of foundation.

“Padmé,” he protested, but didn’t move.

She finished with a smile. “Look,” she said, pointing to the mirror. “No bruise.”

Padmé was right, the blue spot had disappeared. The split in his lip remained, but now he could blame it on dry skin. The doorbell rang and Obi-Wan rushed down the hallway, saying, “Come on, you two!”

They shared a glance and tried not to laugh.

Downstairs, Obi-Wan greeted a man named Bail Organa, who brought catalogues of clothes with him for Anakin and Padmé to choose from. The two of them took turns getting measured in the living room. Padmé went first as Obi-Wan asked what kind of job she had thought about.

“I’m really not sure,” she said. Mister Organa had her raise her arms so he could measure her chest. Padmé smiled awkwardly as Mister Organa scribbled down a number.

“I think,” Obi-Wan started, “that you’d make the most marvelous bird in one of my clubs.”

“But you haven’t even heard me sing!” Padmé replied. Mister Organa measured her waist and on downwards.

Obi-Wan smiled and flipped through a catalogue. “Can you imagine her in this?” he asked Anakin, and showed him a glittering green dress.

“Wow,” Anakin mouthed. He glanced at Padmé in her plain yellow dress with slightly puffed sleeves, the same she wore the day before. “You’d be even more beautiful,” he said.

Padmé blushed at the attention and Obi-Wan asked, “Would you sing something for us now?”

“I’ve never performed before—” she started.

Obi-Wan moved away from where Anakin stood and sat down at the piano in the corner of the room. He played a few notes and turned back to Padmé, a sly smile on his face.

Padmé sighed and sang the first phrase of the song.

Obi-Wan plunked out some more notes.

Padmé’s voice grew a little stronger. The song picked up and Obi-Wan was busy at the keys while Padmé grinned and sang as best she could. Anakin thought she was perfect, and that Obi-Wan was having too much fun. He finished the song with a flourish from high to low. Ashla snuck up behind Anakin and he jumped when she started clapping. Mister Organa stood and told Padmé, “Alright, little miss, you’re done. And might I say, you have quite the voice.”

Padmé thanked him. “You really think so?”

He nodded and the others declared the same.

“Fun, wasn’t it?” Obi-Wan asked, retaking his spot by Anakin.

Padmé stepped down from the little stool. Anakin showed her the green dress as Obi-Wan asked, “You want to be a canary?”

Padmé ran a hand through her hair, which she hadn’t had time to put in a bun. “I’ll give it a go.”

“Thanks, kitten,” Obi-Wan said.

Mister Organa waved Anakin over to the stool as Ashla peered down at the catalogue he’d left on the sofa. “Obi-Wan, can I get a dress too?” she asked, batting her eyelashes.

Obi-Wan wrapped an arm around her and said, “Of course, my dear. Pick whichever one you want.”

Padmé sat with Ashla on the sofa as they looked at all the pretty dresses, coats, and purses. Anakin raised his arms as Mister Organa began his measurements.

“And Anakin, have you decided what you want to do?” Obi-Wan asked, paging through the men’s catalogue.

Anakin bit his lip. “Elan offered to teach me what he knows,” he said.

Obi-Wan’s face faltered. “You want to be a dealer?”

Mister Organa measured around his neck, then down his arms. “Well, I don’t know,” Anakin said quietly.

Obi-Wan went back to looking at the catalogue. “I suppose you could shadow Elan for a day. But you don’t have any experience selling things, do you? Like watches or briefcases?”

Anakin looked down at himself. “No.” Mister Organa wrapped the tape measure around the seat of his pants and Anakin swallowed dryly.

“That’s alright, Anakin. Elan will teach you what you need to know. Oh, I’ve just found the perfect suit for you. Look at this.” Obi-Wan brought it to him as Mister Organa bent to take his in-seam and Anakin stumbled back off the stool. His breath came fast.

Obi-Wan set the catalogue down and closed the distance between them slowly. “Are you alright?” he asked.

Anakin shook his head.

“Overwhelmed?”

He nodded and closed his eyes.

Obi-Wan smiled slightly at the way his lashes fanned out. He reached for Anakin’s hand. “Let’s take a break, then, huh? Do you want breakfast?” he asked.

Anakin took a deep breath and met his eyes. “Yes, please,” he said.

Obi-Wan gave his hand a squeeze before letting it go. He turned to the others. “If you all wouldn’t mind staying in here for a moment, I’ll bring you pancakes and coffee,” he offered.

Ashla was most keen on the idea. Mister Organa didn’t have an appointment for a while and was glad to take the opportunity to talk to Padmé a little longer. Anakin followed Obi-Wan into the kitchen. He watched Obi-Wan take out glass bowls, big spoons, and a skillet, the fabric of his double-breasted blue suit bending with his movements. Then pancake mix, eggs, and water joined the equipment on the counter. “Want to help me make them?” Obi-Wan asked.

Anakin smiled. He remembered being very small and stirring the mix for his mother. Keeping his hands busy was a surefire way to keep his mind calm. “Of course,” he said.

Obi-Wan smiled back and handed him two eggs to crack over the bowl. They measured water and pancake mix and poured the batter into the skillet. Obi-Wan used a spatula to flip it when it was ready, and repeated the process with blueberries and bananas and chocolate chips until they had enough pancakes for everyone.

“Will you get the syrup from the pantry?” Obi-Wan asked. “It should be on the bottom shelf to the right.”

Anakin found it and Obi-Wan watched him bend over to grab it, then blinked and focused his gaze on the stacks of pancakes. “Butter,” he said under his breath.

“Pardon?” Anakin asked, straightening and setting the syrup on the counter.

“I said we need butter, honey,” Obi-Wan replied, and opened the stainless-steel refrigerator.

“Honey, too?” Anakin questioned.

Obi-Wan took a breath and turned around, butter in hand. “Butter,” he said, pointing to it, “Honey.” He centered his index finger on Anakin’s chest.

Anakin’s lips parted and closed and he looked away, blushing.

Obi-Wan took his hand back slowly, fingers curling in on themselves. “I hope it’s alright to call you that,” he said, and busied himself getting plates down from the cupboard, “It’s a habit of mine.”

Anakin ran a hand through his hair and replied, “It’s alright.”

Obi-Wan’s smile appeared and vanished before he turned around again. “Are you feeling better now?” he asked.

“Yes. All this food smells wonderful. Thank you.”

Obi-Wan saw his eyes sparkle and asked, “Would you like to eat with everyone or just me in here?”

Anakin looked at his toes and thought about all their eyes on him. “Just you, if that’s okay.”

“It’s okay, Anakin. Just know that there’s no reason to be afraid of Mister Organa.”

So he had noticed. Anakin clenched and unclenched his jaw. Obi-Wan poured coffee for him and Anakin, then brought the pitcher to the others on a tray with cream and sugar and pancakes. Anakin heard them talking and bubbling over the good food. Suddenly he felt left out. He grabbed his and Obi-Wan’s coffee and plopped down by the table in the living room. Everyone was happy to see him.

“Ani, these are delicious,” Padmé said.

“Mhm!” Ashla agreed, mouth full of chocolate chip pancakes.

Mister Organa sipped his coffee, careful not to get it or the syrup on his gray suit. “Yes, thank you both,” he said politely.

Obi-Wan grinned and took a seat on the carpet with Anakin, having set the remaining pancakes in front of him. He patted Anakin’s shoulder, and Anakin thought he saw pride in Obi-Wan’s face. “You’re all very welcome,” Obi-Wan said. He buttered his pancakes and poured syrup over them. He felt Anakin’s gaze hot on the side of his face. Obi-Wan moved the bottle of syrup over Anakin’s plate and drizzled it around and around in circles. He set the bottle down and caught a drop of syrup before it fell, bringing the sticky finger to his mouth.

“Thank you,” Anakin said, averting his gaze. Obi-Wan smiled. Breakfast continued without a hitch and Mister Organa finished taking Anakin’s measurements. Obi-Wan was true to his promises and placed the order for two new wardrobes and a ruby-colored dress for Ashla. They said farewell to Mister Organa and he tipped his hat before walking out the front door. Obi-Wan put his hands on his hips.

“Well, Anakin, since your clothes will take some time to be tailored, you’ll just have to wear mine for now. Is that okay?” Obi-Wan asked.

Anakin nodded. His trousers and undershirt were quite worn despite being clean now, and he hadn’t brought any of his other meager belongings with him from The Hideaway. Obi-Wan waved him over.

“C’mon, darling. Padmé, I’ll show you where you might like to work in a bit. Ashla, will you call Elan?”

“Of course,” Ashla said, and went to the telephone in the living room. Padmé followed her so she could use the phone afterwards. Anakin followed Obi-Wan upstairs and into his bedroom, then almost gasped.

“Your bed is huge!” he exclaimed.

Obi-Wan looked over at its wide expanse of pillows and smooth sheets. He smiled at Anakin. “It was a luxury I could afford,” he supplied.

Anakin’s face looked just like a child’s in his amazement. “Can I…?” he asked, and pointed to the freshly made bed.

“Be my guest,” Obi-Wan said, and watched as Anakin went to it with a running start and spun around before landing on the mattress and bouncing a few times.

“Wow,” he breathed.

Obi-Wan covered his mouth, his smile much too wide to be polite. “Anakin,” he called.

Anakin sat up and realized maybe Obi-Wan’s bed was not the place to be. He slid off it and straightened his clothes. Obi-Wan curled a finger towards himself and walked across the wood floors to the wardrobe. He opened it and Anakin gawked at all the suits it held.

“Please, pick one,” Obi-Wan said, “Elan should be here soon and he’ll want to show you the tricks of the trade while the daylight’s still good.”

Anakin reached out and stopped over a random hanger, then pulled out the white suit it held.

“Nice choice,” Obi-Wan praised. “Try it on?”

“Could I use your bathroom?” Anakin replied.

“Of course. It’s this door.” Obi-Wan walked a few steps and pushed it open.

“What’s this one?” Anakin asked, and reached for the knob of the neighboring door.

“ _That’s_ —my office. Remember what I said?”

Anakin backed away. “Yes. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, Anakin. Please try on the suit.”

Anakin gulped and locked himself in the bathroom. A few moments later, he came out dressed in half a proper outfit, missing a hat and a button-down shirt, a tie and a handkerchief. Obi-Wan hummed as he looked him over.

“It’s not big enough,” Anakin murmured, and gestured to his bare ankles.

“Yes,” Obi-Wan agreed, “That is a problem. Will you wait one moment?”

Anakin watched him take a key out of his pocket and unlock his office door, then disappear behind it without allowing Anakin a glimpse of what lay beyond. He returned with a black suit on a hanger and relocked the door. He handed it to Anakin.

“Try this,” he said, explaining, “It belonged to a friend.”

Anakin took the suit into the bathroom and tried it on, hanging up Obi-Wan’s suit as he went. The pants of this pair suited him better, although the jacket was a bit large. He wasn’t going to complain, though.

“Much better,” Obi-Wan assessed when Anakin left the bathroom, “What do you think?”

Anakin mustered a smile. “I like it. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” The doorbell rang. “That’s Elan. Are you ready?” Obi-Wan asked.

Anakin ran a hand through his hair. “I suppose so.”

Obi-Wan dusted Anakin’s shoulders off and gathered the clothes he needed to complete his outfit. “You’ll do just fine. Elan will be with you the whole time. But listen, Anakin.”

Anakin met his eyes as Obi-Wan folded a handkerchief just so.

“If you don’t like this job, you don’t have to stick with it,” Obi-Wan told him.

Anakin shed his jacket so he could slip on a formal shirt. Obi-Wan threw a blue tie around his neck. “Don’t you need dealers?” Anakin asked.

“Of course I need dealers,” Obi-Wan replied, focused on the knot he was tying.

“If I don’t like the job… You won’t send me back to Vos, right?” Anakin whispered.

Obi-Wan stopped all folding and tying and exclaimed, “No! What made you think that?”

“You’ll keep me for your own business, then,” Anakin muttered, already believing the conclusion he’d come to. No one would treat him this well without reason.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan chided, “I don’t _have_ any whorehouses. At all. I find the whole thing distasteful. Not the whores, but… the customers. The bosses who use people. Do you understand?”

Anakin found it hard to speak after that. His throat felt tight. Obi-Wan finished his tie.

“You’re going to be just fine, Anakin. Now let’s go seize the day, okay?” Obi-Wan patted his shoulder to get him to turn around. Anakin went with him downstairs and saw Padmé and Elan waiting for him.

“Hey there, Peach,” Elan called, “Keen outfit you got there.”

Anakin shook his arms in the large sleeves and thanked him before hugging Padmé.

“Everything alright?” she whispered, arms curling around him in response.

Anakin held her tight. “I just can’t believe it all.”

“I know,” Padmé said, and rubbed his back. “Have a nice day, Ani. There’s two cars waiting for us.”

So they would go separately. Padmé and Obi-Wan to his clubs, and Anakin and Elan to… Well, he wasn’t sure. Back alleyways? Anakin and Padmé parted to see Obi-Wan take off Elan’s black fedora and ruffle the softer-colored hair beneath it. Elan grinned and Obi-Wan cupped a hand to his cheek, saying, “Take care of Anakin, now, alright?”

“I won’t let him out of my sight,” Elan replied, as if Anakin were some wayward child. Obi-Wan patted his cheek and waved Padmé over. They stepped outside as Elan linked his arm with Anakin’s and led him to a candy red car with curved fenders that mimicked ocean waves. Anakin sat in the passenger seat as Obi-Wan and Padmé piled into his white limousine, a bodyguard ready with a machine gun should they run into trouble. Anakin swallowed nervously.

Elan put his briefcase in the backseat before settling behind the wheel. He glanced between Anakin and Obi-Wan. “Worried about him?” he asked.

“A little,” Anakin said, “and Padmé too. Has there ever been a… a gang war between Vos and Kenobi? Or someone else?” The limousine got smaller and smaller as it raced down the road that brought them to Whip-poor-will’s Keep.

Elan gave Anakin’s shoulder a squeeze. “It’s complicated, Peach. I’ll try to explain it.” He changed gears and they sped off towards the city. Anakin clamped his hand over his hat.

“It’s important for you to know that Papa’s not in this for the money,” Elan explained, “At least, not anymore. He likes to make order out of chaos—something that Vos is very much against. If Papa makes a rule, Vos breaks it, and so on. They’re rivals.”

Anakin furrowed his brows and nodded. The car came to a halt at a stop sign, much gentler than Obi-Wan preferred to drive. Anakin was glad. They accelerated once more and the wind blew through Anakin’s hair.

“I don’t want to be spilling all his secrets, but I’m almost sure the two were on the same side at one point. I think it’s the only thing that’s stopped them from outright killing each other. There have been hits from time to time—drive-by shootings and near-misses. So it would be smart for Papa to leave Vos alone for a while, seeing as he’s mad about losing you and your friend.”

Anakin looked over at Elan. “You’re saying something could happen?”

Elan shrugged. “It’s an occupational hazard. Try not to worry though, alright? Papa’s a smart man. He won’t throw everything away for something petty.”

Anakin took a breath and sat back in his seat.

* * *

Obi-Wan’s limousine pulled into the parking lot of a building branded “Eyeteeth” by an unlit circle of lightbulbs. Padmé took Obi-Wan’s hand as they stepped out of the car and entered the club, followed by Obi-Wan’s bodyguard. As soon as Obi-Wan walked inside, all the clubgoers raised their hats to him.

“Boss!” they called out, “It’s good to see you!”

Obi-Wan smiled and waved them off as he led Padmé to the stage. He climbed over the side of it before helping Padmé up. The place had chandeliers like Obi-Wan’s house, and dark wooden walls and floors that went with the smoky atmosphere. Wine bottles were stacked behind the bar counter, and the floor was littered with red-dressed tables for four or three.

“What do you think?” Obi-Wan asked.

“It’s very alluring,” Padmé said, and caught the gazes of several men in the audience. “Do you think I’ll fit in?”

“Of course, my dear,” he said, and directed her gaze to the doors and the corners of the room, where security guards stood dressed in black. “And if you’re worried about some of the rascals that follow me, these men will make sure you’re safe.”

She smiled at him. “What else can you show me?”

Obi-Wan turned and parted the dark velvet curtains that cut off the stage from the back room. He let it fall behind Padmé and she stared at a mess of costumes and props. She picked up a rubber chicken and held it up questioningly.

“Comedy, kitten,” Obi-Wan replied with a wink. “If singing doesn’t suit you, we could always go another direction.”

Padmé gave the chicken a squeeze and laughed when it screamed at her. She tossed it back into the prop bin. “I’d be a joke,” she said.

“You’d _make_ the jokes,” Obi-Wan countered, and gestured for her to follow him. They walked down a hallway to a well-lit room with a rack of evening dresses against the wall. “This can be your dressing room,” he said.

Padmé sat in a plush chair across from the wide mirror on the wall. She picked up a framed photo on the counter and looked at the orange-skinned Twi’lek in a bejeweled headdress, posing with a smiling human male. “I’m not taking her place, am I?” Padmé asked.

Obi-Wan’s lips pulled into a smile at the singer in the photo. “You’re not. Every club needs a few birds. I wouldn’t want to overwork you, now, would I?”

Padmé stood and gazed up at Obi-Wan. “Let’s see the other clubs.”

Obi-Wan smirked. “Okay.”

* * *

Elan parked on the side of the street and strolled along the sidewalk with Anakin. They’d driven into the closest downtown area, although Elan explained they’d find business in any of the city’s boroughs. “You’ll want to be familiar with the area you’re selling in,” Elan told him, “That won’t happen today, so I’ll be your guide.”

Anakin met his big doe eyes and asked, “Why does it matter if I know the area? Isn’t it just a quick transaction?”

Elan shook his head and put his hand on Anakin’s shoulder. “There’s a lot you need to learn. C’mon, I’ll show you.” Elan came to a stop at the corner of the block and leaned against the wall before lighting a cigarette. He took a drag as Anakin shifted on his feet awkwardly.

“What are you showing me, exactly?” Anakin asked, leaning by his ear.

Elan gave him a little shove. “Be patient. Look. See him over there?” He pointed with his cigarette. Anakin’s eyes locked on a man across the street, hands stuffed in his pockets and fidgeting. “Act natural, Anakin. You’ll spook him.”

Anakin crossed his arms and leaned against the wall like Elan did, then looked the other way. He tensed as their potential customer crossed the street. The Weequay man stood to the side of Elan, nearly towering over him as he asked for a light.

Elan procured his lighter and held it up to the man’s lipless mouth. The cigarette caught and Elan tucked the lighter back into his coat.

“Thanks,” he said, and blew a swirl of smoke into the air. “Got anything stronger than this?”

Elan side-eyed Anakin with a grin. “Whatever you’re looking for, I’ve got it.”

Anakin surveyed the area as the Weequay told Elan what he wanted. A policeman patrolled the sidewalk across the street and Anakin felt a bead of sweat roll down his forehead.

“Tosche Station, seven o’clock, locker twenty,” Elan told him, and handed the man a key. “One fifty, no less.”

Anakin watched the Weequay pocket the key and crush his cigarette underneath his foot before walking away. Anakin breathed a sigh of relief when the officer across the street turned the corner, having paid them no mind. Elan nudged Anakin. “What do you think?” he asked.

“You make it seem easy,” Anakin responded, and wiped his forehead with the handkerchief Obi-Wan had tucked into his breast pocket. Elan grinned when he tried to fold it the way it was before and failed miserably.

“You’re not used to this, are you?” Elan asked.

Anakin put the handkerchief back in his pocket as a thick square. “No,” he murmured.

“Don’t sweat it,” Elan replied, “We’ve got some time to kill now. Wanna see a picture?”

Anakin’s lips parted and he looked at Elan in his green vest and long coat. “You want to see a movie with me?”

Elan smiled. “Yeah,” he said, “Ain’t you ever gone to the theater with someone?”

Anakin tucked his hair behind his ear and adjusted his felt hat. “It’s been a while,” he answered.

“Well?” Elan asked.

“Yeah, I’ll go with you,” Anakin decided, a little excited. “Where is it?”

Elan put out his cigarette and led Anakin back to the car.

* * *

Padmé felt even better after a visit to Obi-Wan’s “Hairless Harpy” jazz club. The music was full of life and the few people that were there at the hour were warm and inviting. As they sat in the backseat of Obi-Wan’s limousine, he asked her, “Have I sold you on the job yet?”

“Yes,” she declared, “I think it’s going to be fun.”

“Good,” Obi-Wan replied, eyes scanning her yellow cotton dress. “Is this the same dress from yesterday?”

Padmé nodded and said, “I called my friend Sabé this morning so she could bring me my clothes and some other things.”

Obi-Wan held his hand to his head. “I was so focused on Anakin I neglected you! I’m sorry, sweetheart. Why don’t we get you a new one now?”

Padmé smiled and shook her head. “That’s really not necessary, I mean, it’s not dirty or anything—well, except for this bit of syrup here—”

“Nonsense,” Obi-Wan said. “Magnus, take us to Crystal’s.”

“Yes, sir,” said the silver-haired man.

Padmé held onto her seat as they zoomed around the city, a little smile on her face.

* * *

Elan and Anakin waited in line to buy their tickets. A sign pasted to the ticket booth announced “DISH NIGHT.”

“How is it so many people are here?” Anakin asked, almost to himself. “Obi-Wan’s rich, but most people right now…”

“Aren’t?” Elan filled in. Anakin nodded. Elan pointed to the sign. “It’s dish night.”

Anakin made a face and looked at the moviegoers at the start of the line. Each of them received what appeared to be a porcelain plate, cup, or bowl on their way into the theater.

“Incentive to buy a ticket?” Anakin asked.

“Yep,” Elan said. They moved forward in line and Elan purchased two tickets for them. A man in a red uniform handed Anakin a delicate teacup. He cradled it in his hands as he brought it up to his eyes.

“My mother would have loved this,” he said, turning the cup so he could see its curving designs.

Elan smiled and showed Anakin his small saucer plate. “Do you want this one to go with it?” They walked into the theater behind two Neimoidians.

“Oh, that’s okay,” Anakin said, “It’s yours.”

“I have enough plates at home,” Elan replied, brown eyes twinkling.

“Alright,” Anakin relented, and took the saucer from him. It had a cute picture of farm animals painted on it. “Thank you.”

Elan patted his shoulder and showed him which direction to go, and then they took a seat in front of the big screen. “They’re showing two pictures tonight,” Elan said, “but we can get something to eat after the first one.”

The screen lit up brightly. “That sounds perfect,” Anakin replied.

Elan smiled at him and turned his attention to the flashing black and white images before them.

* * *

Padmé stepped in front of three mirrors in a loose-fitting, blue sequined dress.

“Beautiful,” Obi-Wan breathed. “What do you think, Magnus?”

Obi-Wan’s driver stiffened and looked over Padmé. “I agree,” he said.

Padmé smoothed her hands down the sides of the dress. “Thank you,” she murmured.

Obi-Wan met Padmé’s eyes in the mirror. “Something wrong?”

She stepped down from the platform and told him, “I’d rather have something I can wear every day.”

Obi-Wan smiled. He said, “You seem like a practical woman. Why don’t you pick a few out yourself?”

Padmé brightened and pinched the bottom of her sequined dress so she could walk around the department store. Obi-Wan caught her arm. “Sweetheart,” he said.

“Yes?” she whispered.

“You should probably change out of this,” he advised.

Padmé blushed. “Of course.”

“I’ll buy it for you, okay?” Obi-Wan asked.

Padmé nodded. “Okay.”

He leaned by her ear and whispered, “There’s no reason you can’t wear it every day.”

She smiled and headed back to the dressing rooms.

* * *

Anakin and Elan slipped out of the theater as the second movie title flickered onto the screen. They stopped by a diner for hot sandwiches, which Elan paid for, much to Anakin’s distress.

“Listen, Peach,” Elan said as the curly haired waitress left with their check, “You don’t have to worry about it. It’s my treat.”

Anakin shifted in their red booth so he could grab a napkin and wipe his mouth. He crumpled up the napkin in his hand. “I really appreciate it,” he said softly.

Elan sipped his soda and checked his watch. “You’re welcome, Peach. We’ve still got a couple hours before we meet Mister Weequay at the station. What do you feel like doing?”

Anakin scanned the room for ideas and centered his gaze on his dish night souvenirs. He pointed to them. “Maybe you could show me where to get a briefcase like yours? And then I’d have a place to put these.”

Elan laughed. “Smart thinking. Yeah, I can show you where.” He dug in his coat for a cigarette and placed it between his teeth. “Want one?” he asked.

“No, thank you,” Anakin said.

Elan flicked his thumb over his lighter a few times before the cigarette caught. He tucked the lighter away and tipped his head to the side as he stood. “C’mon.”

Anakin followed him as they left the diner. The street was busy with honking cars and rattling bicycles as Elan led them down the street to an apparel store for men. Anakin picked a solid briefcase with shiny clasps and a design on the side like an open circle. They bought it at the counter.

“Is Jango in today?” Elan asked the cashier.

“He went to pick up his son from school a moment ago. He should be back soon—” The cashier looked up as a bell chimed over the door. A dark-skinned man entered the store with a young boy on his hip. “There he is.”

Jango approached them with what looked like a forced smile. “Hi, Elan. Need something?”

“It’s for Anakin. Anakin, meet Jango Fett.”

Anakin offered his hand and Jango adjusted how he held his son before offering a hand back. The little boy made a face at him. Anakin smiled awkwardly.

Jango dropped his hand and turned to look at his son just in time to catch him sticking out his tongue. “Boba,” he scolded, “Don’t do that.”

Boba blew a raspberry and his dad ran his hand over his face, brows set in irritation. Elan snickered and Anakin nudged him with his elbow. Jango set Boba down and held his hand as he waved them to the back of the store. He opened a locked door and then bent down to be eye level with Boba.

“Don’t touch anything, okay? It’s dangerous.”

“Okay,” Boba replied, smiling naughtily.

“No ice cream if you touch anything,” Jango warned.

Boba’s face dropped. “But I want ice cream!”

“Then don’t touch anything,” Jango said. He took Boba’s hand again as they entered the storage room. It was lined wall to wall with ammunition and weapons. Anakin’s eyes went wide and he glanced at Elan.

“You’ve got to protect yourself,” Elan explained.

Anakin shut his mouth and looked around once more. “I don’t know how to use a gun,” he told him.

Elan smiled up at him. “I’ll teach you. Besides, it’s just for defense. Jango, could we get something really small?”

“Certainly,” he said gruffly, and gave Boba’s hand a yank when he reached out to grab something. “Sit there,” he directed. Boba crossed his arms and plopped down on a wooden crate. Jango sorted through some boxes as he asked, “You want something compact, or light and thin?”

“Whichever,” Elan answered for Anakin.

Jango rolled his eyes. “How much firepower are we talking about?”

“Close range,” Elan said, “Not too loud.”

Jango smiled and checked on Boba before pulling out a silver revolver with a short grip and a tiny barrel. He showed Anakin how to load it and where the safety was, then how easy it was to keep in his pocket or waistband.

“Thank you,” Anakin said.

“You’re welcome.”

Elan thumbed through his wallet and paid Jango. He pocketed it as he said, “Come here, Boba. It’s time for some new shoes.”

Boba hopped off the crate and went to him, his arms still crossed. “What about ice cream?” he asked.

“After shoes. Don’t make me change my mind.”

“Daaaad!”

“Boba,” he said lowly.

Boba was quiet, a pout in his lips. Anakin smiled and they left the storage room.

* * *

Magnus and a clerk from Crystal’s loaded shopping bag after shopping bag into Obi-Wan’s white limousine. Padmé couldn’t help the joy she felt. She hadn’t had anything that wasn’t borrowed or off the discount rack in quite a while. Obi-Wan seemed to enjoy spoiling her as much as she enjoyed the frivolous spending.

“You think Anakin will like what we bought for him?” Obi-Wan asked, taking a seat in the back of his expensive car.

Padmé thought of the monogrammed handkerchiefs and cufflinks Obi-Wan had asked for while they shopped. They sat in a little white bag beside him. “I think he’ll love them,” Padmé said.

Obi-Wan wore a small smile as they drove home. Ashla told Padmé she’d just missed Sabé.

“I thought she was you at first!” Ashla exclaimed as they came inside, “She dropped off your things and I put them away in your room.”

“Thanks, Ashla,” Padmé said, and turned to Obi-Wan. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to take a bath and change.”

“Go enjoy yourself,” he replied, and undid the button of his suit jacket so he could sit down in the living room.

Ashla tagged along as Padmé carried her shopping bags up the stairs. “Can I see what Obi-Wan bought you? Please?”

“Sure,” Padmé said, smiling at the young girl. She emptied the bags out over her bed and Ashla ran her hands over all the pretty fabric.

“You should let me do your hair after your bath,” Ashla decided.

“You know how to do hair?” Padmé asked, gazing at Ashla’s short headtails.

She crossed her arms and wore a defiant grin. “I know plenty about hair.”

Padmé laughed a little. “Alright. I’ll be back in a few minutes.” She left the dresses for Ashla to hang and fawn over as she set up a bath.

Downstairs, Obi-Wan asked his Mirialan chef to make stuffed hens and fresh bread for dinner.

“And for dessert?” Anita asked smoothly.

Obi-Wan stroked his beard before pointing at her. “Chocolate cake,” he decided.

“Chocolate frosting as well?”

“You know me too well,” Obi-Wan praised. He snagged a green apple to snack on as Anita got started on their dinner. He hoped Anakin would be home in time to enjoy it all.

* * *

“I think it’s time we head to the station,” Elan announced.

Anakin nodded and tucked his new revolver into his waistband. He hadn’t made much improvement during his short time at the shooting range, but Elan assured him that the gun wasn’t really made for hitting faraway targets. The journey to the train station wasn’t long, although Anakin could feel the weariness invading his body. They weaved through a crowd of people until they were face to face with a set of lockers.

“Locker twenty is down here,” Elan said. Anakin watched the printed numbers grow on the metal lockers until they found the one they were looking for. Elan took a key from his pocket and twisted it into the padlock. Anakin looked around and saw the Weequay man hovering nearby, eyes scanning a brochure absently.

Elan took the money out of the locker and placed it in his pocket smoothly. Then he opened his briefcase and picked out what the Weequay ordered. He secured the padlock on the locker once more and pulled the straps closed on his briefcase.

“All done,” he declared. Anakin grinned in relief and walked back to the lobby with Elan. Behind him, Elan’s customer sauntered back into the locker area to claim his prize. Elan’s antennapalps perked up, raising his fedora off his head.

“Something wrong?” Anakin asked, a suspicious look on Elan’s face.

“Fire!” someone screamed.

Anakin jumped and looked for the sight that would confirm the words.

“Fire, fire!”

Through the station’s gate, Anakin saw a blaze eat up one of the train’s carriages and its travelers come running and scrambling out the doors. The crowd in the lobby rushed for the exits as panicked riders flooded the area. Anakin was about to do the same when he found Elan missing beside him.

“Elan!”

The screams of the crowd washed out his voice. Anakin’s eyes flicked over the bodies swarming around him, bumping into him, looking for a trace of antennapalps. There was no sign of him.

The fire flicked over the neighboring carriages and Anakin couldn’t fight the crowd anymore. They deposited him outside as a fire engine wailed in the distance. It was somewhat quieter outside, though worried murmurs and concerned passersby added to the chaos. “Elan!” Anakin called. Still, he didn’t see him.

Anakin waited as the crowd filed out, and waited as the firefighters arrived. They didn’t let him inside to look for Elan even when only smoke and ash remained of the affected train carriages.

Dusk announced itself with lilac clouds and a slight drop in temperature. Anakin decided it was best he get back to Whip-poor-will's Keep before it got too dark. He hoped he was making the right decision. The traffic died down as the sky got darker and darker.

Anakin had been walking for some time when he noticed someone following him. It wasn’t Elan, or anyone he recognized. Anakin sped up his pace and looked over his shoulder after a couple of minutes. There was no one there. Anakin stopped where he stood and looked around.

Someone grabbed him by the collar and yanked him into the alley.

Anakin landed on his hands and knees as his attacker threw him down. Anakin tried to stand and the man kicked the back of his knee, sending Anakin back into a splatter of muck. In the next second Anakin’s chin was in the man’s grasp, tipped up to look at him.

“Remember me?” he asked.

Piercing, violet eyes and the sharp teeth of a smirk greeted Anakin. The bite on his shoulder throbbed just looking at him. Anakin tried to pull away. “What do you want?” he asked.

The Devaronian held him tighter as his hips swayed forward slightly. “What do you think?” he sneered.

Anakin's stomach flipped. No.  _No_. He wouldn't. Anakin tried to stand and received another hard kick and a yank in his hair. The man undid his zipper, holding Anakin ever closer. "Come on, dollface,” he said, “Open up or I'll force it down your throat."

That's what he was going to do anyway, Anakin thought. Rare was the patient customer. Anakin ripped the hand out of his hair and turned to run.

A second later the Devaronian had him on the ground. Anakin saw the leer leave his customer’s horned face before a flood of pain blinded him. It must have been a blow to the head, because the asphalt blended with the sky above him, and he had a vague sense of a weight on top of him, then hands,  _hands_ , and suddenly one clear thought. Anakin struggled to get the gun out of his waistband. He fired.

His attacker's head blew apart in front of him. Anakin blinked, wide-eyed, blood on his skin. The shot rang in his ears. The body slumped across his. Anakin felt a scream roiling in his throat. He shoved the man off and ran, gun in his hand.

He ran and ran and ran to Whip-poor-will's Keep, not pausing for breath or the sounds of the city. Were those sirens getting closer? He was going to jail! He’d go down for murder! Anakin didn't even plan his next steps as he arrived at Obi-Wan's doorstep. He found his boss waiting for him in the tea room.

"Anakin!" Obi-Wan called out. His rescue was covered in blood and sewage.

Anakin ran to him and collapsed at his feet. He bowed over the black pointed shoes, saying, "Help me, help me— I don't know what to do!"

Obi-Wan stepped back and met him on the wood floor. "Are you hurt?" he asked.

Anakin shook his head, his whole body trembling.

Obi-Wan reached for Anakin's hands and pulled the revolver loose from the right one. "Did you use this?" he asked next.

"Yes," Anakin cried, tears beginning their descent, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry..."

Obi-Wan held Anakin's hands firmly. "Anakin," he said, "Why did you use it?"

"One of my old customers—I couldn't get away," Anakin confessed, the words coming out wobbly. "I killed him!"

Obi-Wan nodded. "Okay, Anakin. No big deal. I'll take care of it."

"What?"

"I said I'll take care of it. Dry those tears now, sweetheart. You don't have to worry."

"I don't—" his breath hitched, "understand—"

"Sh, sh, sh," Obi-Wan whispered, gathering Anakin's hands into one of his own as the other stroked Anakin's cheek. "No one will know. I only need you to tell me where it happened."

Anakin recalled for him the street he'd crossed before the incident.

"Very good, Anakin," Obi-Wan said, standing up with him, "I'm going to make a call and then we'll get you cleaned up. Alright?"

Anakin watched nervously as Obi-Wan dialed the telephone in the living room. His eyes fell to his feet and he saw he'd tracked in mud. Soon Obi-Wan was done and turned to him with a reassuring smile.

"I'm sorry," Anakin said again. He wasn't sure what he was most sorry about anymore.

“Don’t be,” Obi-Wan soothed. He wrapped an arm around Anakin’s back and led him up the stairs. “Where’s Elan?” he asked.

“I lost him at the train station.”

“How?” Obi-Wan asked.

“There was a fire,” Anakin replied stiffly.

Obi-Wan rubbed his arm up and down. “He’ll turn up. Elan’s a fighter.”

Anakin’s throat felt thick with anxiety. They entered the bathroom and Obi-Wan said, "Take off your coat and pants.”

Anakin did as he was told. He trusted Obi-Wan with at least this much. And seeing himself in the mirror—he almost lost his lunch. The gore had painted him like a canvas.

If Obi-Wan was affected by the sight, he didn’t show it. He wet a towel in the sink with soap and water, then brought it to Anakin’s face. Anakin watched Obi-Wan’s clear eyes move over him for a moment, then closed his own and concentrated on the coolness of the towel. In the darkness of his eyelids, he saw the Devaronian pulling him closer once more. His brows snagged.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan said softly.

Anakin met his eyes.

“You’re alright,” he whispered, “You’re safe.”

Anakin could breathe again, hearing those words. He said them with such conviction, such certainty. Obi-Wan ran the towel through Anakin’s hair, then over the skin of his neck, and the fingers of his hand. “Perhaps you might like a shower?” he asked, as if Anakin wasn’t decorated with brains.

Yes, he’d like one. No, he didn’t want to be left alone. Alone was dangerous.

“Come on, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said, pulling Anakin off the vanity chair, “You can do this. You’ll feel better clean. Like it never happened, right? Here, I’ll start the water.” He went to the shower and turned the knob to hot. Obi-Wan swiped the razors from the shower ledge and stuck them in his suit jacket before returning to Anakin. He still seemed on edge. It was probably best to give him some privacy.

Obi-Wan turned to leave and Anakin grabbed his hand to stop him. Obi-Wan furrowed his brows and turned around, and Anakin dropped his hand like a hot potato. "I'm sorry," he whispered, gaze falling to his toes.

Obi-Wan rubbed his lips together and reached for Anakin's hand. With a light touch, he centered Anakin's gaze on himself. "I will stay if you want me to," he said.

Anakin took a shaky breath. "Please."

Obi-Wan nodded. "I'll be right here." He sat in the vanity chair and angled it away from the shower. "Go ahead," he called back to him.

Anakin held his breath as he took off his shirt and undershirt, eyes glued to Kenobi. There were mirrors. He watched Obi-Wan run his fingers through his golden hair, bangs falling in his eyes despite the pomade that generally kept them tidy.  The man studied his fingernails and picked some of the blood out from them. Anakin shed his underwear and jumped into the shower.

Halfway through soaping himself up Anakin realized he was more preoccupied with Obi-Wan's presence than what had happened to him. If it was so easy to get over... The image of the man's zipper flashed in the tile before him. He swallowed and it was a sick sensation, a phantom taste. Anakin opened his mouth and let the shower rinse him clean. He glanced back at Obi-Wan through the open shower.

Still dutifully avoiding Anakin’s image in the mirror. Anakin relaxed and tried to think about all the nice things Obi-Wan had done for him already. There was saving him the first time, and giving him clothes and treating him like a person. More than a person, he was a sweetheart, a bunny…

The thoughts were pleasant and distracting and Anakin stepped out of the shower before he found it necessary to acquire a towel. There was one on the rack, white and fluffy. Anakin dried himself off before approaching Obi-Wan, the towel around his waist.

“Feeling better?” Obi-Wan asked.

“Much,” Anakin replied, “Thank you.”

Obi-Wan smiled and stood. “I think after the day you’ve had you should lie down to rest.”

Anakin agreed and he went to his bedroom, Obi-Wan following quietly behind. He was grateful he didn’t have to ask Obi-Wan to stay more than once. He dressed himself in satin pajamas he found in his dresser, courtesy of Ashla, as Obi-Wan admired the night sky from his window.

“How long were you at The Hideaway, Anakin?” he asked, voice sounding distant.

Anakin ran the towel through his hair one more time. “Two months,” he answered.

Obi-Wan turned to him, looking almost forlorn. “You must be exhausted."

Anakin remembered himself pushed to the edge of his limits a hundred times. “I am,” he admitted, “I don’t think I want to… do anything like that for a very long time.”

Obi-Wan was unshaken by the implication. To be frank in these matters was for the crude and the poor. “I understand,” he said. Then, “If I hadn’t been here… If you needed help, would you have called someone?”

In his head, Anakin pictured someone who could no longer help him. “I don’t know anyone besides Vos.”

“No family?” Obi-Wan asked.

Anakin’s jaw clenched, and his eyes welled with anger and grief. “My mother died two months ago.”

Obi-Wan was quiet. “I see.”

“Why do you see?” he snapped, voice breaking, “Why do you care? I’ve been worthless all this time and suddenly you—” He stopped. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t question it,” Anakin murmured, “If I do, I’ll wake up and it will all have been a dream…”

Obi-Wan pulled a handkerchief out of his sleeve and took a step closer to Anakin. He wiped a streak of water from Anakin's forehead, where his hair was dripping. "What can I say?" he whispered, "I like taking care of others."

Anakin kept his mouth shut as Obi-Wan smoothed the handkerchief across his face.

"You have such marvelous hair," Obi-Wan said as he tucked the handkerchief back into his sleeve. "Were you very popular at The Hideaway?"

Anakin didn't want to talk about it, but he felt like he owed him an answer. He nodded.

"It's your hair," Obi-Wan concluded, "No one wears it long like that."

Anakin knew there were other reasons. His lips, his skin color, his blue eyes. They were all in the black book Obi-Wan had glanced at a day ago. Along with all the dirty acts he could perform. "Perhaps I'll cut it all off," he said.

"There's no need," Obi-Wan replied, slowly walking to the door, "I'll protect you."

"Are you going?" Anakin asked.

"Don't you want me to?"

Anakin held himself. "Not particularly."

Obi-Wan smiled a little. "What can I do for you?"

Anakin didn't know.

"What would your mother do? To comfort you?"

Anakin sat on his bed tentatively. "She'd read to me."

Obi-Wan's eyes twinkled in the light of Anakin's lamp and he said, "I'll be right back." He returned with a small novel and sat on the bed next to Anakin. Anakin surveyed the cover as Obi-Wan read it aloud. "The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald." He turned the page. “In my younger and more vulnerable years my father gave me some advice that I’ve been turning over in my mind ever since…”

Anakin settled into his pillow gradually. His mind was taken with the story and he listened for quite a while before succumbing to his exhaustion.

Obi-Wan's reading was interrupted by a snore. He smiled down at Anakin and closed the book, then eased off the bed. He took a blanket from the closet and draped it over Anakin's sleeping form before turning out the light. A shadow resided in the corner of the room. Obi-Wan made a face.

"Leave him be," he said to it.

The blackness wavered slightly.

"Please," Obi-Wan whispered.

It left.

Obi-Wan sighed and went to check on his other guests. Most had settled down to sleep, including Padmé. One ate a piece of cake at the kitchen counter. Obi-Wan retreated to his office and made a phone call.

"Is it taken care of?" he asked. 

"Yes," the voice replied.

"Thank you." He hung up and went to his room, dressed down to his briefs and undershirt, and went to bed. The size of it was meant to give him ample space for rolling over and dreaming, but sometimes it just made him lonely.


End file.
